


What's the worst that can happen?

by TinyPig99



Category: Pitch Perfect (Movies)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-26
Updated: 2019-09-26
Packaged: 2020-10-28 21:23:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20785280
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TinyPig99/pseuds/TinyPig99
Summary: Beca can't sleep. She's got a lot on her mind. Mainly Chloe.





	What's the worst that can happen?

There was hair in her face again.   
Such were the perils of sharing a bed, wrapped in a sofa, wrapped in a much smaller space than was ideal for two people.   
Beca gently moved Chloe’s hair further up the pillow, pausing halfway as Chloe stirred.   
She waited a moment, and once she was sure she hadn’t disturbed her sleep, she let the silky hair fall onto the top of the pillow.   
It had occurred to her on several previous occasions that when Amy was absent, as she was tonight, there was nothing stopping her from using the double bed.   
As long as she had fresh sheets, because Bumper.   
However, she never did.

She knew why.   
She had long basked in the river in Egypt but even she, a self-acknowledged emotional cripple, had figured it out by now.   
After her break-up with Jesse (mutual, grown-up, yes with tears but no real recrimination) she re-assessed her friendship with Chloe and admitted to herself that it had never just been friendship.   
It had taken a long time to understand that the physical need to be close to her all the time was masking a deeper physical need, which was in turn linked heavily to an emotional need.   
Beca had, unbeknownst to anyone, been seeing a therapist for 5 months and as well as unpicking the joyous quagmire of her family history, she had also been poking her sexuality with a mental stick.   
Feelings stirred by the German who must not be named had grown into relative acceptance that whatever path Beca was on, it was most certainly not straight and narrow.

She was in love with Chloe.

It had been a ‘breakthrough moment’ according to Justin.   
He was a good therapist, even if Beca frequently wanted to strangle him with one of his many dapper ties.   
Whenever she would get caught up in trying to defend an indefensible thought, or practice avoidance or just generally bullshit herself, Justin would look at her, put his head on one side and ask, “Are you buying this?”.   
Old Beca would have told him to suck her metaphorical dick and left.   
New Beca would stop, think and grudgingly admit that no, she was not buying it.   
Even though she herself was selling it.   
Therapy was fucking hard.   
She understood that was because she was doing the work, rather than expecting things to change all by themselves.   
She was starting to feel proud of herself.   
Starting to feel a lot of things.   
Starting to feel like she could trust someone with her real feelings. 

Jesus Christ it was terrifying.   
How did people do this every day?

She could feel her anxiety level starting to rise.   
Great, the 4am heebie-jeebies.   
Okay.   
She had this.   
Time to notice sensations.   
Nearest thing to touch… the sheets.   
She ran her left foot up and down and concentrated on the luxurious feel of the 600 thread Egyptian cotton (a gift from Chloe’s grandmother, bless her cotton socks.   
Ha.   
Cotton socks.   
She’d have to remember that in the morning, Chlo would love it.)   
  
Now, something to smell.   
Well, Chloe’s hair was right there.   
She moved her head up and breathed in a lungful of what she knew to be wildly overpriced seaweed shampoo.   
She could notice the warmth coming off Chloe’s body, and moved in as close as she dared.   
She sometimes felt guilt about how much she enjoyed the proximity at night.   
Was she being a perv?   
It was becoming harder not to say anything.

Justin asked her that week why she didn’t want to say anything.   
She did.   
She did want to, but there was the fear.  
  


She was so close now. To Chloe’s neck. She was breathing a little heavier. She rested her hand delicately on the most delectable bicep she had even seen. Seriously. How did Chloe have these arms? Feminine, muscular, curved, strong, hot, sexy. Oh shit. Okay. Back on track Mitchell. Get it together.

But really. Those biceps.

She was running the fingers of her left hand up and down, and slowed to just hold Chloe’s well-defined shoulder. The strap of her tank top had fallen and her clavicle was a clear line.

Beca wanted to lick it. She wanted to lick all along it and up Chloe’s soft neck.   
  
Nnnnnggggg.   
  
Stop.   
  
Back up.

Better to think about words.   
Justin always made her think about how to notice her feelings and then express them.   
She carried a notebook in her bag these days to complete her various homework assignments.   
Noting down what triggered her anxiety.   
Noting her feelings at different times of day.   
Expressing her worries, her fears and her vulnerabilities.   
It was torture and she pretty much felt like puking on her way to each session, but she had noticed that the crazy feelings of panic had started to lessen.   
They were less prone to rendering her immobile as they had in the past.   
These days, when she wore her headphones and had her laptop open she was actually working, not just avoiding her present.

The fear was definitely not in full control anymore, but whenever she thought about telling Chloe how she honestly felt about her, it made a scene-stealing re-appearance.   
That was what she told Justin too.

How could she risk losing what she had? What if Chloe didn’t feel the same? She knew Chloe would never hate her, would never judge her or disown her, but if it was out there… the truth… how could it not change everything?

It was a risk. Such a big risk. Justin asked if the potential reward was not greater than the risk? Yeah, easy for you to say, Dapper fucking Dan.

Christ, she should be sleeping right now.   
She had slept so well for the first year of sharing the fold-out.   
Waking up next to Chloe, with her arm wrapped around her on occasions, was very settling. Anchoring. Safe.

Ever since she started to think about telling her how she really felt though, the insomnia had been really biting in the early mornings.   
She would find herself leaning up on one elbow, just looking at Chloe.   
Looking at her strong jaw, her wide features, the way her face was kind even when she slept.   
  
Beca didn’t think she’d ever known anyone as selfless as Chloe.   
Not doormat selfless, strong selfless. Caring. Loyal. Gentle but passionate.   
Chlo was so passionate and so full of feeling.   
Her heart was huge.  
Beca wanted to climb inside her heart and live there, smothered in love.

Oh Christ.

Mitchell.

Get a goddamn grip.

Beca was going to tell her.


End file.
